


Is. For. Charity.

by gimmefire



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:11:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3559025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmefire/pseuds/gimmefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You are too cool for this, huh?," Felipe mocks, waving his hand in Rob's direction. "You have this new hair, the beard - no, you are too cool..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is. For. Charity.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [a prompt](http://f1flashfic.livejournal.com/15575.html?view=692695#t692695) on F1 Flash Fic, set during the 2015 Australian GP weekend. Swears within because Rob.

"But is for _charity_."

Rob's been wishing that Felipe had never heard of Red Nose Day for a few weeks now. Not the charity fundraising concept itself; Rob has said over and over that he's happy to donate, but plainly that isn't enough for Felipe. _Make your face funny for money_ , he had parroted in varying degrees of good English, insistent and stubborn but with just the right amount of playfulness. And he has those big brown eyes. Big, manipulative, chocolate brown eyes.

Rob is strong to it these days, though. He's built up good defences over the years. Reasonably good defences.

"No," he says, again. "Don't keep on."

"You are too cool for this, huh?," Felipe mocks, waving his hand in Rob's direction. "You have this new hair, the beard - no, you are too cool."

Rob smiles and doesn't bother to reply, and Felipe's hand wave becomes dismissive as he gets up and wanders out of the hospitality unit with an amused Matteo. Rob suspects that might not be the end of it.

 

It isn't, as it turns out. Felipe ambushes him on his way back to his room late that night for what Rob presumes to be a booty call. Despite his half-hearted protests and weary body, Felipe manages to wheedle his way into Rob's room and onto his bed with the help of some compelling kisses and intimate touches. Rob is thinking about dropping a hint for an nice relaxing mutual handjob when his hand rounds the curve of Felipe's ass and finds the outline of something hard and rectangular in his back pocket.

"What's this here?," he murmurs, his words muffled against Felipe's throat. Felipe just makes a curious noise, so he delves a couple of fingers into the pocket and promptly has his hand swatted away.

"Is private," Felipe admonishes with a mysterious smile, casting his eyes over Rob's face in a way that makes him feel a touch self-conscious. Before Rob has the chance to open his mouth and ask what's going on, Felipe hitches himself up and slides into his lap, sitting on his thighs with his legs spread.

"Oh, hello…" Rob purrs, momentarily distracted from his unease and weariness by the interest his body is taking in Felipe's movements.

"Hello," Felipe responds impishly, the mystery washing away from his broadening smile, replaced instead by triumph as he reaches back into his pocket and brings out a palette of face paints. Rob's shoulders drop.

" _For fuck's sake,_ " he sighs in amused exasperation, collapsing dramatically backwards on the bed to the sound of Felipe's croaky laugh.

Felipe stretches out over him, propping himself up with one hand and waving the palette in Rob's face with the other. "What should we do, huh? I make you maybe a clown?" he sinks down to lie on Rob's chest. "A nice butterfly?"

"Fucking heavy, you are," Rob mutters.

"You want to be a tiger?," Felipe asks, roundly ignoring his grumbling.

"Not really a fan of Hull City, mate," Rob replies, earning himself a bemused look.

"Maybe the Joker," Felipe ponders aloud, inspecting the palette and popping open the hinged lid with his thumb. Felipe pushes himself up, shifts forward and plonks himself back down a bit too heavily on Rob's stomach, apologising when there's a strained grunt and a swear beneath him.

"Hopefully next year it'll be Punch Your Friend In The Face For Money."

"My son behave better than you, you know?" Felipe pokes him on the nose with the end of the plastic orange paintbrush. A light bulb seems to appear above Felipe's head at that moment, and he swirls the brush in the bright red circle of paint. Rob's discontent escalates.

"You absolutely sure about this?," he asks while Felipe deposits the palette on his chest and pushes his fringe away from his face. "I've seen what your drawings are like."

"Is. For. Charity." Felipe says very firmly, and bends to set about his work.

There's a lot of red involved, that's for sure. Then some white, mainly around his eyes, which he's not vastly happy about because Felipe isn't exactly delicate with the brush. By the time there's some black added Rob begins to wonder if he's just having the Scuderia Ferrari logo painted on his face.

Felipe speaks precisely once during the procedure, tugging on Rob's beard and grumbling that it's in the way, and is the picture of focus otherwise, his slight frown becoming less slight when he apparently makes a few mistakes and has to reach over to the bedside for a tissue. Rob doesn't complain once Felipe has gotten going; the strokes of the brush, when they're not too rough, are quite soothing in their own way, and he gets to stare up at his lover and the way he traps the tip of his tongue between his teeth as he concentrates. Felipe meets his eyes occasionally and they exchange smiles. It's not _so_ torturous, really.

But then Felipe sits back and regards his work, seemingly finished. He bites his bottom lip and doesn't appear wholly happy with things, reaching down to drag his finger along Rob's bristled jawline. "Is a problem," he complains. "I think maybe the butterfly would be better."

"You're not fucking starting again!," Rob exclaims, trying to sit up and escape from Felipe's creative clutches; Felipe swiftly relents and squirms backwards off the bed before he's bucked off. Rob makes a show of smoothing the creases out of his shirt when he stands up, resisting the urge to scratch the inevitable itch that's on his nose.

"Do you like?" Felipe asks impatiently, leaning against the doorframe leading to the bathroom, nodding towards the mirror. There's a small sense of dread forming in Rob's stomach at what he might see, but when he gets in front of the mirror, he laughs.

"It's not bad, actually…"

The black lines are a bit wonky, the eyes are a slightly strange shape and the beard _is_ a problem, but to Felipe's credit, he does look for the most part like Spider-Man. Felipe beams proudly.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and leans against Rob, holding the device at arms length to take a photo of the two of them. Felipe pokes out his tongue and holds his free hand up in the Spider-Man gesture. Rob musters an embarrassed smile. "You're not putting that on the fucking internet, are you?"

"Matteo did not think you would do this, so now I have the proof!," Felipe replies with a grin, suspiciously managing to avoid the question while he taps away at his phone screen. "Also Dudu. And I think Claire would like, no?"

Rob just gives him a look, then returns his gaze to his reddened reflection, scratching his chin. "You're right, the beard is a problem."

"Mmm," Felipe hums in agreement, putting his phone away. He looks a little sad about it. "I did not think. Is like the mask is up here." He holds his curled fingers up to his cheeks, which brings a mischievous half-smile to Rob's lips.

"Like that bit in the film," he murmurs, giving Felipe a sidelong look. "But I'm not gonna hang upside down, even if it is for charity."

"And also I don't want to be wet!" Felipe exclaims, eyebrows raised, before Rob loops an arm around his waist and pulls him in for a tender, face paint smudging kiss.


End file.
